


The Specter

by Bedelia27



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-26 05:28:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12052293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bedelia27/pseuds/Bedelia27
Summary: A past-present look at Janeway and Chakotay's relationship. Five years after Voyager returns. I own none of the characters, and some dialogue is taken from Paramount Star Trek: Voyager.This is my first fanfic, and I appreciate any feedback.HUGE thanks to Pinkpoedi for beta reading and for encouraging me on this crazy journey.





	1. Voyager

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pinkpoedi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkpoedi/gifts).



“Commander, you have the bridge.”

Kathryn walked into her ready room. Her head throbbing, she headed straight for the replicator. “Coffee, black.”

“Unable to complete request; insufficient replicator rations.” “Damn it,” Kathryn whispered. She threw one hand to her aching temple and the other to her hip. Her eyes closed with exhaustion, as she took a silent moment to herself.

“Torres to Janeway.” The chirp of her commbadge brought her back to reality. “Go ahead, Lieutenant.” “Thrusters are back online, but the warp core is still fluctuating outside acceptable parameters. With your permission, I’d like to run an external scan to see if the damage to the hull disrupted the magnetic resonance receptors.” “Permission granted, Lieutenant. Keep me updated.” “Will do, Captain.”

The past few days were a blur of events. After a rather nasty and unexpected rendezvous with the Kazon, the ship was in desperate need of repair. Several systems were offline, paralyzing engineering and affecting the Doctor’s program. To make matters worse, Voyager encountered a sub-special anomaly shortly after the Kazon attack. It sent a power surge through the ship that in turn sent electric volts through workstations. A number of the crew were recovering from electrical burns, and despite continuous efforts, engineering still had not corrected the doctor’s program. In short, tensions were high, resources were low, and the end was not insight.

Kathryn walked over to the piles of reports strewn across her desk. Grabbing the closest report to her, she sank into her desk chair. It would be a long night.

\----------  
“Computer, time?” “It is now 03:00 hours.” With a slight sigh, Kathryn set down the PADD she was reading. The reports offered nothing new. Engineering was experiencing technical difficulties; sick bay was in need of more medical supplies—and a doctor; Neelix served an unidentifiable Telaxian delicacy for dinner; and crew moral continued to wane.

Sleep was not a possibility. Kathryn felt the diminishing hope aboard the ship in the knots of her sore back. She yearned for a hot cup of coffee, but Voyager’s depletion of resources made even the smallest comforts, or in this case necessity, unattainable.

The doors to her ready room opened, “I thought you might be up.”

The voice soothed Kathryn’s racing mind. A slight smile danced across her lips, “Sleep seems to elude me these days.” She watched the Commander enter her ready room, slowly moving towards her desk. There was something striking about his dark eyes and sculpted facial features, observations she solemnly allowed herself to indulge.

The Commander removed his hands from behind his back, “You look like you could use a cup.” The slight crooked smile and renewed spark in her deep blue eyes proved his assumption correct. She let her guard down, her voice changing to a raspy whisper, “And here I thought we lived in a coffee-less void.” The consistency and smell alerted her to the deception. “Neelix’s better than coffee substitute,” she said with a with a slight exhausted laugh. The Commander’s dark eyes showed a flash of amusement that dissipated into sympathy. No one was more aware of Kathryn’s love affair with coffee than Chakotay.

Increasingly, Chakotay found himself attempting to lessen the Captain’s burden. The Captain’s stress levels had reached the zenith level. Her hands were constantly glued to her hips or her temple, a clear indication of both stress and sleep deprivation. The past few days were undoubtedly challenging for the entire crew, but Kathryn certainly bared the weight of current events.

“I apologize for the deception, Kathryn. I thought it might brighten your spirits, if only for a minute.”

“The sentiment is most appreciated, Commander.” For a split second, Chakotay allowed himself to relish in Kathryn’s warmth. Her soft features yet determined eyes fascinated him. How could a woman of such slight stature carry a presence of such authority?

Chakotay saw the warmth disappear, replaced with a perfectly mastered mask void of emotion, as Kathryn switched back into captain mode. “Personal discomforts aside, the current food depletion warrants considerable concern. I am afraid the crew will not tolerate Mr. Neelix’s cooking much longer.”

“Agreed.” Then Chakotay added with a soft chuckle, “Even I can no longer stomach the so-called delicacies served in the mess hall.” Kathryn rose from behind the desk. She placed a comforting hand on Chakotay’s arm, as she walked towards the windows of her ready room. Staring into the stars used to comfort Kathryn, but now it only added to her growing anxiety and feeling of loneliness.

Chakotay took his place on Kathryn’s left.

“Has Mr. Kim been able to identify any planets to replenish our reserves?” The Captain asked the question without breaking her gaze into the stars.

“Not yet, nor has Neelix offered any suggestions. On a positive note, B’Elanna did make progress in engineering, but I am afraid the Doctor’s program is still down.” A barely audible sigh and furrowing of her brow greeted Chakotay’s less than comforting update. 60 years laid before her, 60 long years. This was not the first—certainly not the last—time that Voyager faced a seemingly impossible situation.

Looking into the abyss, Kathryn was keenly aware of Chakotay’s presence to her left. His protective gaze watching her weigh and calculate the options that laid before them. Her mind constantly racing, constantly looking for answers. His hand reached toward her, making contact between her shoulder blades and slowly descending until it came to rest in the small of her back. Kathryn felt herself tense at his touch. She was surprised, taken aback at his forwardness.

Feeling every muscle in her back tighten to an unnatural degree, Chakotay quickly removed his hand. He had let himself indulge in a personal desire that Kathryn either was not ready or unwilling to reciprocate. “I am, Kathryn, I…” His voice trailed off unable to finish the sentence. He knew what he wanted to say. He wanted to tell her that he was there for her. To tell her that he would not leave her, he would not let her be alone.

Adopting a tone of command Kathryn questioned, “Commander, was there anything else?” Chakotay understood that this was Kathryn’s polite way of acknowledging and simultaneously condemning him for crossing the line between friendship and something more. He tried to hide his disappointment, but her refusal to turn away from the stars told him all he needed to know. It pained her to refuse his comfort, and this gave him an inkling of hope. Just enough hope to keep waiting.

She did not have to turn around to know he had left. The room grew colder without his presence. It was moments like this, when he demonstrated his unyielding affection, that Kathryn knew their relationship extended far beyond the structure of command. It was the knowledge of his willingness to love her, his devotion to her, that deepened her feeling of loneliness. She knew that as long as she remained Captain and he remained her First Officer, she could not allow a relationship to develop. It was not a decision dictated by Starfleet, rather a personal necessity to put the needs and interests of the crew above all else. A captain smitten with her first officer was not a captain fit for command.


	2. Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Earth, five years after Voyager returns.

“Thank you for an enjoyable evening.” Mustering a somewhat believable smile and unbuckling her seatbelt she began to open the car door. 

“Kathryn, I uh…” Alan found himself shocked at his own loss of words. He was a politician, he spoke for a living, but something about Kathryn Janeway made him delightfully nervous. He found himself fascinated with the woman attempting to escape his car. No one captivated him like she did. Her charm, her intelligence, her beauty. “Would you mind terribly if I came in for a night cap?” 

The moment she dreaded finally arrived. It was not that she did not like Alan. On the contrary, she found him extremely attractive and a pleasant conversationalist. He was respectful, and he gave her space. She knew this day would come, yet Kathryn found herself extremely unprepared to answer the question looming in the air. She was nearly 50 years old, and she had not been with a man in years. It was embarrassing how foreign dating, relationships, and intimacy seemed to her. 

“Alan, I…” Noticing her discomfort, Alan held up a hand to silence her thought. “Kathryn, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.” Letting go of the door handle, Kathryn turned to face the man sitting in the driver’s seat. Alan was a handsome man of 52 years. His once chestnut brown hair was now speckled with grey, giving him an aged but distinguished look. What she admired most, however, were his eyes. Surrounded by deepening smile-lines, Alan’s green eyes were trustworthy and kind. She felt herself slightly relax as she peered into those soft eyes. “Yes, that’ll be fine. Do you prefer whiskey or coffee?” 

\----------  
He was still there in the morning. His arm stretched behind her shoulders as he softly snored. For a moment, she caught herself wishing the bed was empty. How ridiculous, she thought. On Voyager, the empty bed was overwhelming. The stillness of the sheets, the silence of her quarters, the lack of movement apart from herself felt more deafening and bleak than space itself. Now here she was, in bed with a man who genuinely cared for her, wishing the bed was empty. The irony did not escape her. 

She gently tiptoed out of the bed, as to not wake Alan. She grabbed the discarded remnants of last night’s dress that were carelessly thrown about the floor. Finding Alan’s dress shirt in the corner of the room, she quickly threw it on, threw the dress in the dirty clothes pile, and went to the kitchen for coffee. 

It was 06:30. She never slept passed 06:30, at least not since her first alpha shift on Voyager. Coffee in hand, she walked onto the small patio outside the kitchen. The brisk San Francisco air sent chills down her spine. The coffee warming her hands, she took the first sip, an instant calm settling over her mind. Routine. That’s what she needed. Routine. 

“Kathryn?” His voice startled her out of her daze. “On the patio,” she hollered back. Alan walked out to her. No shirt and a case of bedhead, he looked dashingly handsome. His eyes twinkling, “Ah, so that’s where my shirt ran off to.” A slight blush crept up her neck and into her cheeks, “Sorry, it was the first thing I saw.” He gave an amused laugh and leaned in to kiss her. “It looks good on you. It really shows off your legs,” he winked as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. 

\----------  
She sat in her office staring out the window. What the hell had she done. Kathryn cared for Alan, but she did not love Alan. She told herself to be patient that time had a funny way of solving life’s more complex problems. That affection could turn to love, but Kathryn was not one to be patient. She preferred solutions, and she did not like problems she could not solve. 

Kathryn met Alan at the Federation Gala. She had been vaguely aware of who he was before he approached her, but she had not taken much interest in the guest list. She noticed his ability to work a room, a characteristic many people also attributed to her. A characteristic she often noticed and avoided in others, because she knew better than anyone that those who talked smoothly tended to tread less lightly. After all, she had not survived seven years in the Delta Quadrant forming friendship circles and singing Kumbaya. 

Alan was the kind of man that Kathryn Janeway could not resist, but Admiral Kathryn Janeway held at arm’s length. He was attractive, intelligent, and powerful. He had friends in high places, places that funded Kathryn’s paycheck as an Admiral. 

“Admiral Janeway,” He extended his hand, “Alan Grant, pleasure to meet you.” She had been surprised at the richness of his voice. “Secretary Grant, the pleasure is mine.” Kathryn knew this game too well. She introduced herself softly but with authority, gripping his hand with force. Her eyes never leaving his, giving a look of both strength and inquisitiveness. Unlike many other men of authority, Alan did not retreat. He held her eye contact, challenging it with his own prowess of the game. He intrigued her. 

Intrigue or not, Kathryn did not return any of Alan’s phone calls for several weeks following the Gala. She was not looking for a relationship. The fifth anniversary of Voyager’s return was approaching, and Kathryn was dealing with an internal conflict of emotions. She had always assumed the journey home would be the hard part, but assimilation into a world she left behind was significantly harder. She found herself teetering on the edge of remembering the woman she was before Voyager and not allowing herself to drop the defenses she so expertly created on Voyager. 

Although she was not ready to admit it when Alan first asked her to dinner, and despite her reluctance to admit it now, Kathryn knew the issue was less with Alan and more with the man she always assumed would be in her life. She danced around him for seven years, shying away from his touch, allowing him to get close but never close enough. In some sense, it was self-torture. She created rules to govern her life, to ensure her objectivity, and to protect the structure of command. Yet, somewhere along the way, Kathryn lost something she never expected to lose, and it was a loss much greater than she ever imagined. She lost her friend and her confidant.


	3. Voyager

These were the days Kathryn hated the most. When the crew’s spirits were raised by the specter of home only to be squandered by an alien species. She looked at her Chief of Security, “What do we know about these, Hirojans?” Tuvok’s face gave nothing away, “I learned very little about them, but I believe we should consider them extremely dangerous. They seem to lack any moral center.” His answer was enough to rejuvenate the headache she had been nursing since they ran into the new species. Her hand migrating to her temple, a gesture of strain not lost on her old friend.

“Do you know why the relay network was so important to them?” “No, Captain. I assume they used it for communications, as we did.” With an agitated chuckle and a wave of her hand, “Well, they won’t be using it anymore.” Tuvok understood the Captain’s disdain for the situation, but not willing to leave her less than completely informed, he added, “They won’t be pleased about that, Captain. I doubt we’ve seen the last of them.”

The chime of the door alerted them both to the Commander’s entrance. Tuvok took the momentary break to excuse himself, leaving with a polite nod to the entering Commander.

“Repair teams have inspected the ship from stem to stern. Except for some maintenance that’s needed on the warp coils, everything seems fine.” Chakotay knew Kathryn was at the beginning of what would be a long migraine. On the surface, she looked perfectly composed, but underneath her careful composure was a woman graveling with her own longing for home. She gave him a fleeting smile and rose from her ready room chair, “I suppose so. Want some coffee?”

He offered her a warm smile, “Thanks.” She picked the coffee tray off the desk, and walked around to the viewport. “Cream and sugar?” He followed her lead, “Two sugars.” He predicted the gasp of astonishment, “Oh, two sugars?” He fanned humility and retorted, “You know, you drink too much of this stuff.” The left eyebrow shot up, her face lighting in amusement, “Really?”

“If I am not mistaken that’s your third cup this morning.” He loved the small laugh that followed almost as much as watching the tension fall from her shoulders. “Fourth. And on a day like today, it won’t be my last.” She paused to take a sip, relishing in the comfort of the caffeine, “Coffee – the finest organic suspension ever devised. It’s got me through the worst of the last three years.” She sat down on the couch, gesturing for him to do the same. “I beat the Borg with it.” He couldn’t help but laugh at the truth of the statement.

She turned to face the window. He watched her head fall into her hand, her eyes dull, a look of concern darkening her beautiful features. “Oh, I’m sure Voyager will be fine, but I’m worried that the crew might be a different story. I think they were hoping mail call would become a regular part of their day.” Even she was excited at the prospect of communicating with loved ones back home.

He laid a concerned hand on her knee, “How are you doing?”

She gave him a tight-lipped smile, “Me? I’m fine.” He sighed and gently tilted his face to match hers, “You’d say that if you’d just had your legs torn off by a Trayken Beast.” She offered a small laugh but did not retort.

“Look what you’ve been through, Kathryn. We finally make a connection with home and then it’s ripped away from us. We manage to make another enemy who’s going to try and hunt us down and destroy us, and on top of all that...” He stopped short, not wanting to hurt her further.

“It’s all right” She whispered. “You can say it.” Her voice grew in strength, but he saw the quiver of her chin. “On top of all that, I got a Dear John Letter.” She rubbed her exhausted face, concealing her momentary lapse of emotional strength. “It wasn’t really a surprise. I guess I didn’t really expect Mark to wait for me considering the circumstances.” She looked longingly into her coffee, “It made me realize that I was using him as a safety net, you know? As a way to avoid become involved with someone else.” The words tumbled out with her helpless to stop them. She wanted his comfort in this moment more than ever before, but she also knew that once the line was crossed, it could not be undone.

His hand left her knee, finding her hand and offering a comforting squeeze. He then gently titled her face, so her eyes had no choice but to look into his. “You don’t have that safety net anymore.” Not breaking eye contact, she whispered “That’s right.” They sat on the coach, peering into each other’s eyes for a nanosecond more, before she gently pulled away.  
Her voice regaining its normal tone, “Then again, my life is far from uneventful here in the Delta Quadrant. It’s not like I would have had a chance to pursue a relationship, even if I had realized I was alone.”

Chakotay took a moment to etch her face into his memory. He visually traced the curve of her cheekbones, the gentle arches of her lips, his eyes soaking in every detail. “You are hardly alone.” He paused, forcing her to meet his gaze.

Her breath caught in her chest. Her heart pounding. His eyes conveyed more in one look than any phrase or combination of words ever could.

“Kathryn, there’s still plenty of time.” She sought refuge in his words, repeating them ever so softly, “Plenty of time.”


	4. Earth

Five years. How had it been five years since Voyager returned? She thought back to the day Admiral Paris called her into his office. He had been her mentor for fifteen years, but every time he summoned her to his office she felt like a schoolgirl called to see the principal. The day he gave her Voyager was no different.

“Katie, how are you?” His voice boomed across the luxurious corner office in the San Francisco high rise. “I am doing well, Admiral, and yourself?” She glanced around the office, taking in the familiar sites, as she sat in her habitual seat. The picture of Owen’s daughters and wife, and the picture in the far corner of the room, the furthest from the desk, of his son, Tom.

Kathryn knew very little of Tom Paris. Owen was immensely proud the day Tom entered the Academy and devastated the day he left. She vividly remembered the day Tom’s career at the Academy ended. She had been sitting in the same seat looking at the same photographs when Headquarters called Owen to tell him there had been an accident. It was an accident that would scar the Paris family, and virtually end Tom’s career in Starfleet. When Tom joined the Maquis and was subsequently captured, Owen ceased speaking of the boy.

“Katie, I am sure you know why I called you in to see me today.” “To the contrary, Admiral. I have been attempting to figure it out since I received the message from Headquarters.”

Owen had always been fond of Kathryn. He admired her courage and determination. No doubt she was one of the most skilled cadets of her class, and her service record was impeccable. Kathryn had exceeded expectations in nearly every way, from her days as a science officer, to her most recent two-year command mission. His one concern for the intelligent woman sitting in front of him was her unquenchable thirst for exploration. It was both her greatest asset and her greatest vulnerability.

“Kathryn, I have an assignment for you. I want you to captain the USS Voyager on her maiden mission to the Badlands.” He watched in amusement as shock, followed by excitement, followed by confidence flowed across the young Captain’s face. “Katie, don’t look so surprised. You’re the most qualified Captain in the fleet. The decision was unanimous.”

Kathryn did not know what to say. She slowly rose from her seat, placing her hands behind her pin-straight back and spoke with an authority of command she did not know she was capable of, “It would be my honor, Admiral.”  
It certainty had been an honor to serve as Voyager’s captain. The two-week mission that became a seven-year journey that both defined her as a Starfleet officer and as a woman. The crew, that ship, and those memories were a significant part of her life, and no matter the distance or time that separated her from Voyager, she knew those memories and people would always be a part of her.

The five-year anniversary of Voyager’s return provoked a less comforting felling, however. She felt agitated or anxious or some other emotion she could not place. Moments like these, I almost wish I was Vulcan. The involuntary thought forced Kathryn back to her senses as she scolded herself, “Damnit, Kathryn, pull yourself together.”

She busied herself around the generously sized Starfleet issue apartment. She had considered buying a house, but a house seemed to permeant. Even when she was engaged to Mark, the thought of buying a house was suffocating. She needed space to explore, and a house with a red door and a white fence was claustrophobic to explorers such as herself.

The knock on the door surprised her. She looked in the hallway mirror. The mascara from this morning was relatively intact, and her hair had been better but was not too unruly. _All systems normal._ The thought brought a small smile to her face. Tom used to joke that the state of the ship could be determined by the state of Kathryn’s hair alone. He was not half wrong.

“Alan!” As soon as his name left her lips, she realized her mistake. “Oh, Alan. I am so sorry.” He looked disheveled, slightly aggravated. “Kathryn, I knew you ran a little late sometimes, but I thought since Voyager you would have invested in a clock or two.” The joke was a failed attempt to ease the ice out of his words, but the insult hit its mark. “I beg your pardon?” Her face contorted into her Captain’s Mask, her eyebrows arching while the eyes beneath became venomous. “Would you like to continue this conversation in the living room, or do you prefer to reprimand me in the hallway?” He pushed pass her, forcefully making his way into the living room as she shut the door.

She knew this was her fault. Between their schedules, they had barely seen each other. Alan planned the date for their favorite restaurant a month in advance to ensure both parties were free. Of course, Kathryn would forget, excited to finally have a night to finish her latest re-read of James Joyce poems. _Oh hell, Kathryn, why don’t you double check your calendar with your secretary?_ The thought was accompanied by a roll of her eyes, which happen just as Alan said, “Does this relationship mean anything to you?”

“Well, I guess that was my answer!” The anger and hurt on Alan’s face made Kathryn feel ten times smaller. “Alan, please, I didn’t mean it like that. Of course, this relationship meant something to me.” The Captain’s tone replacing her voice did nothing to mask the second grave mistake of the evening. _You really know how to shoot yourself when you’re down, don’t you old gal._

“It really **meant** something to you. Wow, Kathryn, wow.” Alan paced in the small room, hand gripping his chin. “You know, I really thought you were different. Sure, you come off cold, but somewhere, deep down, heavily guarded, I truly thought you had a semblance of a heart.” The words hurt, but the laugh that accompanied them hurt more. “But, clearly, I was wrong. You are a selfish, self-preserving woman who doesn’t give a damn about anyone or anything. I mean…” The insults continued, each one ripping open old wounds. She eventually shutdown, listening but refusing to reply. This only angered him more, until he stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

She stood alone in the living room, speechless by the drastic turn of events. “Well, I guess all systems weren’t normal after all.” Her own joke falling flat in the aftermath. She couldn’t help but think Alan was right. He had gone to so much trouble for them to have an evening together, and she forgot. Not only did she forget, she completely erased it from her memory. Yes, she was stressed with work; no, she had not slept in days, but none of that was an excuse for her actions. Kathryn ran a spaceship with far less sleep, insane levels of stress, and little if any decent food. Hell, she beat the Borg and still managed to make it to one of Tom’s holodeck parties. _Kathryn, how could you do this to him?_ Tears threaten to stream from her eyes, and instinctively she blinked them away before they betrayed her grief to the empty Starfleet issue room.


	5. Post-Voyager

All things considered, the second to last day of trials had gone well. Kathryn had been concerned. Despite her continuous claims of adhering to the Prime Directive, she knew the Directive had fallen to the wayside. She sat back, fading into the comfort of the down-pillow. It was 23:00, and she was contemplating sleep. She could not remember the last time she saw a bed before 03:00 in the last seven years. Her hand reached for the light right as she heard the knock at her hotel door.

She sat in bed, contemplating ignoring the knock. The thought of ignoring something, even something as trivial as a knock, sent a tremor of freedom through her body. In the end, she decided that ignoring responsibility was not something Kathryn Janeway did. She reluctantly left the cocoon she had created and grabbed the satin pink night-throw next to her bed. _Who in the hell is it?_ She took a passing glance at herself in the floor length mirror. She looked thin, too thin. Her jaw bone protruded too far, and her cheek bones created deep caverns in her taut face. The years had been hard on her.

Standing on the other side of the door was the one man she both longed and loathed to see. He stood there, eyes tracing the fibers in the carpet, avoiding her steely glare as long as possible. He forgot why he had thought this was a good idea. He knew he had hurt her. The one woman he had promised to protect. He remembered his exact words. He promised to stay by her side, doing whatever he could to make her burden lighter. Instead, he had added to the continuously growing list of burdens that laid on Kathryn’s shoulders.

“Commander.” Somehow his rank never sounded more threatening. “Kath-,” he caught himself, “Captain.” She continued to stare at him, not inviting him in. She felt vulnerable in her nightgown. Her uniform hid a greater portion of her body, but the nightgown granted no refuge from the Commander’s eyes. “Can I help you?” The question sounded more like a threat than an inquisition. “Captain, I wanted to discuss my current state of affairs.” Despite the cryptic language, she recognized the underlying message. He wanted to discuss his relationship with Seven of Nine. “Oh,” was all she managed to say. Of course, he would choose 23:00 on the night of the final trial to _chat_ about his philandering. She cleared her throat, “Commander, I really don’t think your relationship warrants a conversation.”

The venom seeped out of her voice more aggressively then she intended. She could not remember the last time they talked as comrades. Hell, she could not even remember the last time looking at him did not incite a feeling of irritation. “Capt—Kathryn, please let me explain. I never wanted things to end like this.”

One had flew to her hip the other to her temple. When he first met Kathryn, he never thought he would be the source of her tension. She gave an exasperated sigh, “Chakotay what exactly do you want to explain? Your feelings for Seven? Your apparent disregard for the structure of command? Please, enlighten me.” The moment the words escaped their safe guard under lock and key, she regretted her slip of the tongue. _You could have ignored the knock, Kathryn. Why had you not ignored the knock?_

“Kathryn, that’s not fair and you know it. You set those standards for yourself, and you couldn’t accept the fact that I didn’t follow suit.” This was what he had hoped to avoid. He did not come here to point fingers and assign blame. “Once again Commander, what is the purpose of this late-night visit?” He knew standing in the hallway of the Four Seasons Hotel was not the place to rehash seven years of empty promises and heartache. “Nothing. I shouldn’t have come.” He didn’t know what he expected, but it certainly was not the response he received. “No, you probably shouldn’t have.” The frankness of her voice surprised even her, and her decision to close the door before he fully turned away was even more uncharacteristic. Kathryn thought to herself, _when did I become so hard?_

He walked down the hallway, wondering when the woman who had once been his closest friend became the greatest regret of his life. The Delta Quadrant had changed them both, but Kathryn had lost more of herself than she had kept. He should have stepped in, grabbed her hand when she needed it most, but instead he let her lock herself away. Now, he dealt with not only the consequences of his actions but the ramifications of her self-isolation.


	6. Earth

Kathryn’s floor length gown was sheer black with a plunging v-neck that emphasized her femininity but retained an air of modesty. Her hair was swept into a lose French twist that nicely complimented the angular features of her face. She paired the hairstyle with medium sized pearl earrings that added to the classic style of her evening attire. She surprised herself with her attention to detail, particularly concerning her typical lack of vanity. As she peered at her reflection in the floor-length mirror she was stunned by her own transformation.

Kathryn normally dreaded Starfleet galas, but this one was different. Starfleet was holding a gala in honor of the five-year anniversary of Voyager’s return, and the entire crew would be in attendance. She maintained contact with a good portion of the crew, meeting Tuvok, Harry, and B’Elanna once or twice a month. Rarely, however, did she have the opportunity to see them all together in one place. The only source of apprehension came from the knowledge of his attendance.

The hotel’s doorman called up to the room to inform her that her car had arrived. She grabbed her small clutch and started towards the door. She hoped the butterflies in her stomach would subside on the short drive to the gala, but part of her knew that the attention to detail, the careful creation of her appearance was all in an effort to attract his gaze. She imagined the butterflies would remain until the bitter end.

\----------  
He approached the venue with an apprehensive smile. A tidal wave of people surrounded him, clasping his hand, congratulating him. The flashes of cameras, reporters screaming questions over the hordes of people. He pushed through, finding himself standing at a grand staircase descending into a luxurious ballroom. It reminded him of classical 19th century bourgeoisie society. The anthropologist in him smirked, _leave it to Starfleet to have us travel back in time on a night like this_.

Chakotay slowly descended the stairs taking note of the people in attendance. He noticed several older men ogling a woman in the far corner. He had no doubt that Seven was that woman. Sure enough, he caught a glimpse of the tall blonde wearing a skin-tight emerald dress. The Doctor adorned her left arm. The Doctor wore a smug look knowing every man in the room envied his proximity to Seven. Chakotay offered a small smile and a nod to the happy couple.

“Chakotay!” He recognized the voice immediately. “B’Elanna!” She looked radiant as she approached him. “How are you? I haven’t seen you around Starfleet lately.” He leaned in to hug one of his oldest friends, as her husband approached. “I am doing well. I have been working outside of San Francisco, trying to help set up a new colony on the outskirts of Taurus Prime. How are you two?” Tom and B’Elanna both knew Chakotay avoided Headquarters to lessen the chances of accidently running into the Admiral. “We’re doing well. Miral started school this fall, and I have been working on a new engineering project to enhance warp stability in times of temporal dissonance. Tom just accepted a new teaching position at the flight academy.” A sense of pride overwhelmed him as he heard of the couple’s success in their new lives.

Harry approached the threesome accompanied by his wife Libby. Chakotay though it was fitting that of all the crew, Harry’s fiancé never lost hope. Behind Harry, Tuvok trailed, making his way towards the group forming in the middle of the room. “Well, it looks like the bridge crew managed to show up for duty shift after all,” Tom’s quick wit certainly had not diminished over the years. “Now, if we could only find the Captain.” “Uh, Tom,” Harry’s voice sounded flustered as he pointed to the figure descending the stairs.

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She was vaguely aware of the room staring at her. Then again, Kathryn had not managed to walk into a room in the last 15 years without everyone staring at her. For most of those years, the eyes were owned by anxious bridge crews awaiting orders. More recently, the eyes belonged to curious onlookers attempting to catch a glimpse of the infamous Captain who traversed the Delta Quadrant. _Kathryn, if you trip right now, you’ll never forgive yourself_. Her hand reached out to grasp the railing with surprising vigor. The moment felt surreal. She was waiting to awaken in her quarters aboard Voyager, chalking the last five years up to a realistic dream.

Safely reaching the bottom of the stairs, Tuvok approached her. “Captain,” he offered her his arm, which she gladly accepted. “Commander, you look dashing this evening.” “Thank you, Admiral. You look nice as well.” She almost gasped at the sentiment. In the nearly two decades she knew Tuvok, he had not once commented on her appearance.

Chakotay watched as a small smile crept across her face, illuminating her eyes. He could not take his eyes away from the scene. She outshone every woman in the room. Her classic beauty was addictive. “Um, Commander, or uh Captain?” Chakotay turned his attention to Tom. “Tom, since when do you refer to me by rank?” He intended the comment to contain a trace of humor, but it fell flat. It was not a secret aboard Voyager, especially among this group of individuals, that Chakotay and Kathryn teetered on the edge of something more than comrades-in-arms. Stolen glances on the bridge, and clandestine meetings in the ready room were not all together unnoticeable. Then again, the tension that formed between the command team in the latter half of the journey was also noticeable. The entire bridge had watched the two push each other away. An emotional war quietly raged on the bridge that only the two individuals in the adjoining seats in the middle of the bridge understood.

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He kept an eye on her all night. He watched as she approached every crew member in attendance, waiting for his moment to approach her. Finally, she quietly slipped out to the balcony overlooking the city alone. He politely excused himself from a conversation he was pretending to be interested in, and made his way towards the one person he had hoped to talk to all night.

“I thought I’d never catch you alone.” He watched her stiffen as his voice softly filled the space between them. The scene reminded him of so many long nights on Voyager. Kathryn staring into the stars while he attempted to ease her wondering mind. “Chakotay.” He missed the way she said his name; the slight emphasis on the K that momentarily caught her breath. “Kathryn.” He took his place on her left, knowing it was his turn to wait for her to speak.

She continued to stare into the stars. Her eyes transfixed on the familiar constellations. The silence rang in his ears like a deafening roar, but he continued to wait. His unspoken broken promise to wait for her creating a rift between them. He desperately wanted to reach out to her, to cross the void he had allowed her to create; that he had allowed them to create. His eyes traced her face as they had a million times before, searching for the softness that once graced her features. Instead, he found her beautiful features clocked in self-doubt, grief lurking in her eyes.

“Do you remember the stars on New Earth?” Her voice sounded smaller than he remembered. “Yes.” Not breaking her search of the heavens, she said, “I thought those stars were the most beautiful stars I had ever seen.” A broken smile danced slowly across her lips, as she turned to look at him for the first time in five years. “Kathryn, I—” She smiled at him and signaled for him to stop. “Chakotay, please. We both know there is too much to say. Too much has happened between us—to us.” The soft glow of the night, the lights from inside highlighting the contours of her face, took him aback. She looked stunning. He always found Kathryn attractive, but tonight she radiated beauty.

She turned her gaze back to the stars. He moved closer to her. His hand resting on the balcony railing half an inch from her hand but not close enough to touch. A sad smile fixed on her face, her deep blue eyes deep, tumultuous oceans.

“As a girl, the stars were an endless source of mystery, adventure, and above all else, comfort. Comfort in knowing there was something more, something left to be discovered.” She paused, gathering her thoughts. “Now the stars that once brought me a sense of security, that drove me ‘to boldly go where none have gone before’”—A small smile briefly crossed her features— “have led me to my greatest failure.”

She turned her eyes from the stars, staring into his dark eyes, “They led me to you. You are the one adventure I never wanted—that I never searched for—and you are the one adventure I cannot survive.”

Her words surprised him; they wounded him. The finality of her statement sent an icy wave through his body. He stared at her, yearning to tell her he was there for her, that he would not leave her. The same thoughts he kept locked away on Voyager begging to be released, to cross the rift that grew between them. Instead, he stood there motionless. His lips refusing to betray his thoughts.

Finally, he whispered, “Kathryn, I—” Once again, she stopped him. “No, Chakotay. This is how it ends.” She placed her hand on top of his, giving it a small squeeze. A single tear escaped its confines, as she leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. For the last time, she pulled away, composed herself, and offered a small smile before she faded into the glow of the ballroom.

She was gone.


End file.
